


Earning Her Trust (Drivin' Me Crazy)

by PropShopHannah



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dom/sub, F/M, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Lust, Manorian, Porn With Plot, manorian smutt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PropShopHannah/pseuds/PropShopHannah
Summary: The women who admit themselves into Dorian Havilliard's bed sheets know they're in for three things: Great sex, the best morning after ever, and no strings attached. And no woman has ever denied him the pleasure of making her breakfast the next morning or driving her home. At least not until Manon Blackbeak. She fell into his bed, rocked his world, then left him naked and wanting in his own living room. He hadn’t known whether to be offended, or impressed. All he knew was he couldn't stop thinking about her.Manon Blackbeak does not do boyfriends. Not since...well a while. She never intended to see Dorian again, but for some reason she can't stop thinking about him. It doesn't help that he lives in the same apartment complex. She's made it clear that it's just sex between them, but is that what she really wants?





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Dorian Havilliard would have left this noisy club had it not been for Manon Blackbeak, who was grinding her ass all over some random dude on the dance floor. She was wearing a short black dress with that weathered leather jacket he liked best on the floor of his apartment.

He took another sip of his beer and turned back to his friends.

He’d come to this club because it was Aelin’s birthday, and she’d decided that she wanted to spend it dancing until some ungodly hour. The club was crowded, noisy, served over priced beer, and played shitty music. He stood at the bar next to Chaol and Rowan–in the only spot in the whole place cool enough to keep them comfortable in their jackets.

He watched as some frat-house douchebag ran his hands up Manon’s bare thighs. He had half a mind to pound the fucker, but he stayed put. _You’re not her boyfriend,_ he kept telling himself.

No one in their friend group knew he and Manon were sleeping together. In fact, Aelin would flip out if she knew. She’d recently started officially dating Rowan and had announced to his friends that her friends were off limits. Dorian was no stranger to this rule. He and Chaol had known Aelin since high school, and after Dorian had personally ruined a few of Aelin’s friendships with casual sex, he’d been glad when she’d set the boundary.

Chaol could give a shit about the rule. He didn’t need it in high school, and he didn’t need it now. Recently, he’d been silently chasing a hot transfer named Nesryn. Silently–meaning he’d been acting more like her lap-dog best friend than a guy who wanted to bone her. Dorian snorted to himself.

He took another sip of his beer. He saw Manon tap Aedion’s shoulder and then point to the douchebag with his hands on her waist and his mouth near her ear. He watched as Aedion gave a nod, whispered something to his girlfriend, Lysandra, then sidled over to Manon. He swung her around so fast the douchebag with his hands on her nearly fell over. An effective cock-block. 

_ Good, _ Dorian thought, and he made himself a mental note to buy Aedion’s next beer.

The douchebag eventually took the hint and moved on to grope some other unsuspecting female. Manon danced with Aelin and Nehemia.  _ Can’t complain about the view now, _ Dorian thought.

He pulled out his phone and shot Manon a quick text.

 

 **D:** _How come u never dance that way for me?_

 

About a month ago, he and Manon had met at the bar she worked at. They’d seen one another around campus before, but he’d never had the opportunity to talk with her. They’d had a great conversation, and the night had ended in his bed. It was only when she’d refused to sleep over that he’d realized that she lived down the hall from him. She’d just signed a leased in his apartment complex, and apparently he’d been “ _ elbows deep in some redhead _ ” and hadn’t noticed her moving in. Her words, not his.

Dorian hadn’t tried to deny it. He needed no help with the ladies. He was handsome, rich, and gifted with the kind of bright blue eyes that every man, woman and vegetable dreamed of getting lost in. It wasn’t a brag. It was the truth. A truth that had made it’s way around campus and built him a nice reputation. A reputation he’d liked to have kept until the night Manon Blackbeak found her way into his bed and had then refused to stay.

_ I’m a fantastic lover, _ he’d thought as she’d climbed out of his bed a month ago, pulling her dress back down over her thighs.

“Stay,” he’d said. She’d only looked at him as if to say “how cute” and then made her way to the door. He’d never chased a woman, but damn if she hadn’t become the first. He’d jumped out of bed as she’d crossed the living room and said, “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning?” 

No woman had ever denied him the pleasure of making her breakfast the next morning, or seeing her home. That just didn’t happen. The women who admitted themselves into his bed sheets knew they were in for the time of their lives, the best morning after ever, and no strings attached. But Manon had only turned to him and said, “That’s so sweet. Maybe another time.”

Then she’d left Dorian Havilliard naked and wanting in his own living room. He hadn’t known whether to be offended, or impressed.

The music in the club switched, and he watched as Manon pulled her phone out of her jacket. She looked at the screen then stuffed it back into her pocket.  _ She did  _ not _ just ignore my text? _

No one in the history of the women he’d slept with had ever ignored him. It drove him crazy. 

When Manon had refused to stay the night that first time, Dorian had gone over to her apartment the next morning and made her breakfast. Stupid, maybe, but he had a reputation to uphold. They’d had a nice morning, it’d led to them half naked on her bathroom counter, and had ended when she’d gotten dressed and left the apartment. She’d had the audacity to tell him to lock the door when he was done. In less than 15 hours the same woman had walked away from him– _ twice. _

It was as if she’d declared war.

Mercifully, they’d run into one another a few days later at a party he’d gone to with Rowan and Chaol. He’d honestly tried to stay away from her because Aelin was there with Rowan, but it hadn’t lasted long. He’d kept the conversation casual, and had made sure not to ignore the women who were trying to get him to take them home that night–to be nice to them, and also in a flat out attempt to make Manon realize what she was missing. Almost as soon as Aelin and Rowan had left the party, Dorian had, once again, found himself dick deep in Manon’s skirts. They’d barely made it to his jeep before he was inside her.

Fucked. He was well and truly fucked. He couldn’t get enough of this woman.

They’d exchanged numbers that night and had agreed that they would see one another only for sex. It was an arrangement that’d been working out very nicely for Dorian...well, until he’d seen her tonight with some frat-house douchebag pawing at her. The dress she’d chosen to wear, and the ample amount of cleavage spilling over the plunging neckline, weren’t helping. He’d been sporting a quarter chub since he’d first seen her that night.

He pulled his phone out to text her again.

 

 **D:** _U’re killin me baby. Grindin that sweet ass all over ur girlfriends. How about u follow me outside and grind that ass on me?_

 

A second later, she pulled her phone out, rolled her eyes, and typed in a few quick keystrokes before stuffing the phone back into her pocket. A second later, Dorian’s phone vibrated.

 

 **M:** _In ur dreams princeling. 2 many witnesses. Why don’t u entertain the blonde eyeing u at the bar?_

 

Dorian chuckled. She’d started calling him “princeling” when he’d told her his father had founded the Adarlan Steel company–a now global steel manufacturer. He’d likewise started calling her “witchling” in his head because he was convinced she’d put a spell on him.

 

 **D:** _Not interested. Tonight I only got eyes 4 u sweetheart._

 **M:** _Ha! Well ur not the only one._

 **D:** _I wanted to kick that guy’s ass._

 **M:** _Why?_

 

And Dorian didn’t know why. They weren’t dating. He had no claim to her.  _ Cuz he was pawing at you like some animal, _ he thought.  _ Because he shouldn’t of had his hands on you in the first place. Because I was jealous.  _ He took another sip of his beer and went with:

 

 **D:** _He had sloppy technique. An embarrassment to guys everywhere. If those had been my hands, u’d be beggin me to take u outside, sweetheart. Those panties wld be soaked._

 **M:** _How do u know I’m even wearing panties princeling?_

 

Damn if his dick didn’t twitch in his pants. He had to turn around and face the bar before the whole club saw his hard-on.

“Another round boys?” Rowan said, knocking back the last of his beer.

“Always,” Dorian and Chaol replied.

“Chaol. Not to be a dick, but who have you been texting on your phone all night?” Dorian asked, desperate to think of anything but the possibility that Manon was not wearing underwear. From the moment they’d walked in, Chaol had barely been present he’d been so deep in his phone. 

Rowan ordered them all a round as Chaol fidgeted. Rowan and Dorian both turned to him. Chaol rolled his eyes.

“Who do you think?”

“Jesus, Westfall,” Rowan said. “You’ve been after this Nesryn girl all semester–”

“Correction,” Dorian interjected. “He’s been acting like her lap-dog all semester. Not the same thing.” Rowan agreed. Dorian’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“I have not,” Chaol said.

“Tell me, Westfall,” Rowan continued. “Have you made a move yet?”

Chaol shrugged and took a too long sip of his beer before answering. “Of course I have.”

Dorian gave a sound like the game-show buzzer and said, “Wrong. You carry her books, organize her study notes, probably make her dinner and help fold her laundry. Not moves, dude. You’ve friend-zoned yourself.”

“I have not,” Chaol said defensively.

“Chaol hasn’t what?” Aelin said, coming up between them and throwing her arms around Rowan. Dorian straightened and casually looked around for Manon. She was right beside him, rubbing her tits all over his arm and pretending she was just trying to get the bartender’s attention. Damn if his dick didn’t grow three sizes.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

 

 **M:** _Unzip ur left jacket pocket._

 

He put his phone away and turned back to Manon. She’d squeezed herself between Aelin and him. He’d never been so glad to be in a crowded club in all his life. He turned to face her, making sure her chest was now pressed against his. Her tits looked amazing. Soft, round, and just begging for him to let them out of that restricting push-up bra–which he could totally see the red lace of from his angle.

“Can I get a water?” she asked the bartender. Dorian pressed his hardened dick against her stomach. Manon’s throat bobbed, and he saw the too deep breath she took to calm herself. _Fuck yes,_ he thought.

The bartender returned with a bottled water, and before she could pay for it, Dorian pulled some cash from his jacket pocket and laid it on the bar. He leaned in close and whispered, “Left pocket is open, babe.” He pulled back and watched as heat flood her eyes. She smirked and took a sip from the bottle in the most inappropriate way.

“Down, Dorian!” Aelin yelled from behind Manon. “Back up. You’re not allowed to be this close to my friends.”

Dorian laughed and put his hands up, “Only buying the lady a water.”

“What did he say to you,” Aelin said, pulling Manon to face her. She glared up at Dorian. “If you said something inappropriate to her, I’ll kick your ass.”

“It’s fine,” Manon grumbled. “I’ve heard worse, from less.” She gave him a disappointed once over and linked arms with Aelin. “I have to pee.” Then they were gone.

“Brutal,” Chaol said. Dorian tried not to bristle.

“Please, she only looked at me like that because she knows she can’t have me. Aelin’s rules remember? I’m sure it applies to the girls as much as it does us.”

Chaol snorted. “That rule doesn’t apply to me, dude. Aelin only acts like it does so it won’t hurt your feelings.” Dorian turned to Rowan.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “You’re the one who slept with her friends in high school and never called them back.”

“I made it clear it was just sex,” Dorian said. “Not my fault I was so good the ladies wanted me all to themselves.” He shrugged and took a sip of his beer. His friends both rolled their eyes.

“Whatever the reason,” Rowan said, “you don’t want to get involved with Manon.”

“Why?” Dorian said. Rowan shrugged.

“I heard she put a guy in the hospital last semester,” Chaol said. Rowan nodded.

“Whoa, what?” Dorian said, looking from Chaol to Rowan.

“I don’t know exactly,” Rowan said, “but I think her family is kind of weird. She and Aelin were roommates freshman year, and Aelin said one day she went back to their room and Manon’s cousin was there. The hot blonde one who owns the bar?”–Dorian and Chaol both nodded, picturing Asterin Blackbeak–“Aelin said she’d packed all Manon’s things and told her Manon had some family stuff to take care of, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dorian said to Rowan, trying not to act overly curious.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Rowan said, taking a sip of his beer. “When Manon came back she had a waiver to live off campus. And there was this one time…” Rowan shrugged.

Both Chaol and Dorian were staring at Rowan.

“ _ There was this one time _ …” Dorian said, flourishing his hand for Rowan to finish the sentence. 

“I don’t know, dude. She moves a lot. One time, Aelin asked me to help move her into a new apartment in the middle of the night. It was weird.” 

Dorian knew that look. Rowan wasn’t telling them everything, but before he could ask him another question, Aelin and Manon returned.

Aelin threw her arms around Rowan’s neck, and the two began kissing. Manon brushed against Dorian just as he said, “Get a room you two.”

They ignored him.

He looked back and found Manon with Nehemia out on the dancefloor. His phone vibrated.

 

 **M:** _Left pocket._

 

He casually moved his hand to his left jacket pocket and found it zipped closed. He’d left it open. He discretely unzipped it, and slipped his hand inside. _Jesus H. Christ._ His fingertips found a silky, lacy fabric–Manon’s panties.

They were still warm.

All the blood in his body rushed to his dick, and he had to turn around and face the bar to hide the evidence. She must’ve taken them off in the bathroom. They were folded into a tiny square, and as he ran his fingers over the fabric–holy shit–he found a damp spot. 

He clenched his jaw and tried to think of anything but the warm fabric beneath his fingers. He ripped his hand out of his pocket and zipped it closed.  _ Drowning puppies. Pat Sajak. Vomit. Rowan and Aelin making out– _ That did the trick.

“Are you all right?” Aelin said, finally pulling away from Rowan’s mouth. 

“Peachy,” Dorian said, turning around to glare at Manon. Of course she wasn’t looking at him. He pulled out his phone.

 

 **D:** _Look at me._

 

A few seconds later, Manon checked her phone and looked over at Dorian. He ran the fingers of his left hand under his nose and made a show of sniffing them. Manon’s lips parted, and she bit her bottom lip. She stared at him for a second too long.

He smirked and pulled out his phone.

 

 **D:** _U want me, sweetheart. Quit torturing us both._

 **D:** _I’ve been hard for u all night. And now that I know that pretty pussy is drippin for me I gotta get it in my mouth._

 **M:** _Where?_

**D:** _ Second floor. Last bathroom. I’ll leave first. _

 

She nodded to him from across the dancefloor, and he could see the lust addling her senses. Jesus, she wasn’t wearing underwear. Maybe he should have let her go first, so he could follow her up the stairs. His dick twitched. Bad idea.

He closed his tab and told his friends good bye. Then made up some excuse about having to piss and how the bathrooms on the second floor were the cleanest and least crowded. 

He tried not to run.

He took the stairs two at a time, then made his way to the far end of the building where the bathroom the club reserved for VIP’s and guest DJ’s was located. It was a two stall deal with mood lighting and a large marble countertop. The door had it’s very own lock and it was completely empty. He waited inside, pulling Manon’s panties from his pocket. 

The were red silk.  _ Of course they were. _

He brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply. Fuck, they smelt good. Like her. Something sweet, the tang of sweat, whatever detergent she used to wash her clothes...

The door pushed open and Dorian gave himself one second to devour the sight of her before he pounced. He shoved her panties back into his pocked, and in two strides, he had her pinned against the door, legs around his waist. She reached over and locked the door as he forced his tongue into her mouth. God, she tasted better than anything he’d ever had in all his life. Like Christmas morning, a snow day in elementary school, New Year’s Eve.

He ran his hands up her thighs and gripped her bare ass.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This ass has been driving me crazy all night.”

She responded my lifting his shirt and grinding herself into his bare stomach. Fuck she was wet. He reached under her ass and found her pussy–dripping and throbbing. She groaned and bit his lip incredibly hard, he sunk the tips of his fingers into her. She threw her head back and moved on him as best she could. Dorian bit and sucked at her exposed neck.

He removed his fingers and dropped her legs to the floor. He grabbed the shoulders of her dress–bra straps included–and pulled both down to her waist. 

Surprise, arousal, and protest flashed across Manon’s face as her breasts spilled into the room. He gave her no time to protest as he bent down to massage and suck those breasts. She was warm and soft. Each nipple hard and erect in his mouth and hands. He rolled one between a thumb and finger while he kissed and sucked and nipped at the other. She moaned and tried to wiggle her arms free of the straps and sleeves now trapping them to her sides. She managed to get her jacket off, but he stopped her before she could free her arms of her sleeves. 

With a firm look, he wrapped his hands around her wrists, pinning them to her sides. He stood up and forced a knee between her legs, pressing his hardness into her. He claimed her mouth for himself once again. The kiss he gave her was brutal and objectifying and owning–just how he knew she liked it.

She whimpered and rubbed her tits against his chest. Dorian knew she needed more of him. Knew she was lost to her lust and drunk off his touch. This was how he liked her best. Pliable and compliant and wanting.

“You don’t get to have your hands,” he said into her mouth, still grinding his dick against her. “You’ve had enough fun torturing me tonight, sweetheart.” She bit his lip hard. He growled. “Did you think I liked watching you grind your ass on some other dude? Think I liked it when you stuffed your wet panties into my pocket? Did you think I wouldn’t come to get what’s mine?” He released one of her hands and sunk a finger into her wet heat. She moaned and writhed in place. 

“Oh God. Dorian, I can’t wait,” she said.

He chuckled and ignored her.

“This,” he said, curling his finger in and out of her, “is mine.” Pleasure coursed through her body like electricity. She met his eyes between the next brutal kiss and nodded to him. Yes, this was his.

He pulled back and knelt before her.

“Oh fuck,” she breathed as she watched him lift the hem of her dress and press his nose to her. He inhaled deeply.

He looked up at her and told her to hold the hem of her dress up. She did. He spread her legs a little wider and said, “I’ve been thinking about this dripping pussy all night. If I don’t get in in my mouth, I’m gonna go crazy.” 

She watched him spread her lips with both hands then suck her clit into his mouth. She groaned and threw her head back, biting hard on her bottom lip.

He sucked and kissed and tongued and nipped at that swollen bundle of nerves until she went off like a rocket. She reached for his head as her hips ground into his face.  _ More, more, more,  _ her body begged as she came into his mouth. He licked her clean and stood, picking her up to wrap her legs around his waist as she recovered. She was boneless and limp in his arms.

With one hand he unzipped his pants. The sound of which brought her back to the present moment. She shimmied her arms free of her dress and reached into his back pocket to grab the condoms he kept in his wallet. Tearing one off she tossed the wallet on the ground. He held her aloft as she ripped into the package and then rolled the condom onto him.

He was thick and hard and long. She lined up their bodied, and he took over, thrusting into her. Fuck, she was tight and hot and wet. He knew he was thick, but damn if this woman’s pussy didn’t suck him right in each time. He groaned into her neck as he pulled back and began fucking her against the wall. She moaned and bit his ear and neck, rubbed her tits across her chest.

“Sit back,” he commanded. She did.

He braced his hands on her ass and thrust up harder now, watching her tits bounce with the movement as he fucked her. He wanted to suck one of her pink nipples into his mouth, but the angle was making it difficult.

“Jesus, baby,” he said. “This pussy is hungry.” It wasn’t a lie. He could feel her muscles clenching and contracting around him, desperate to keep him there.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she gasped.

“Oh yeah?” Dorian said with a satisfied male smile. She nodded. “What did you think about?” He slowed his thrusts and clenched his ass cheeks to prolong their pleasure.

“You. Your big dick. This.”

“Did you touch yourself, Manon?”

“Yes.” She nodded vigorously, almost unable to get the word out.

“How many times, baby? How many times did you stroke this pussy thinking about me?” Dorian braced her on the wall using one of his knees and freed one of his hands. He brought it between her legs and ghosted it over her clit, still thrusting into her far slower than she wanted.

“Oh, God,” she cried. “Twice. Dorian, twice.” She ground her hips into him, looking for the touch of his fingers, but he took them away. 

He wasn’t sure why, but he said, “I didn’t like seeing that guy’s hands all over you. I don’t want you to fuck other guys, Manon. I won’t fuck other women.” As he said the words, he gave her the hard thrust up she’d been looking for and pinched her clit once. She growled with want and frustration. And somewhere in the haze of her pleasure, he could see the meaning of his words strike home.

“You’re not my boyfriend,” she said, panting. “But we can be exclusive until one of us gets bored.” Fuck, yeah.

He claimed her mouth with a brutal kiss. He moved both hands to clasp her backside and fucked her in earnest and to hilt. She moaned and gasped and spasmed from pleasure around him. He lifted her up and bit the inside of one of her breasts, leaving a mark.

“Ouch, Dorian,” she gasped. “Feels so good.”

He moved to the other and sucked the nipple into his mouth and laved it with his tongue. 

“Oh, God. I’m close,” she said. “Dorian, I’m gonna come.”

He looked up at her and found her looking away from them and into the long mirror beside them. She watched him fuck her against the wall. He did too for a moment. It was hot. The sight of her bouncing breasts, his thrusting hips–she reached for her clit.

He turned back to her and gripped her chin.

“Eyes on me, Manon. I wanna see the face you make when you come for me.” He watched heat flood her eyes at his demand. Felt it slick her already dripping pussy. 

She liked him like this. In control. Dominating. Cruel. She’d told him once that she got off on being objectified in the bedroom, on feeling owned, used. It was her kink, and it was why they were so compatible. He liked to be in control in the bedroom. He needed it, craved it. Dorian didn’t want to think about when and why he’d become this way. Why he needed to be in control. Not now anyways. Not while he was inside her, and she was about to come on him. 

Still gripping her chin and thrust into her hard and fast. “Say my name when you come, Manon. I want to hear you say it.” He looked down. She was vigorously rubbing her clit with her hand. Her moaning filled his senses.

He pulled her mouth to his for a kiss, but she bit his bottom lip. He pushed her head back into the wall, slipping one of his fingers into her mouth, and held it there. He felt her inner muscles begin to spasm, as she sucked at his finger.

“Come for me, Manon. Right now.”

She did.

She spasmed and writhed and half screamed his name over and over and over again as pleasure swept her away. The feel of her body squeezing him, pulling him, milking him–

_ oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck _

–was his undoing. He came hard and hot and thickly inside her. Thrusting to new depths and moaning her name as he fucked her to completion.

When it was over, he set her down on the counter and found her mouth. They were breathless and spent and smiling. Their kisses were soft and sweet and gentle. He wanted nothing more than to take her home with him and tuck her into his bed, into his arms. 

He leaned his head on her shoulder and removed the condom. He pressed one quick kiss to the side of her neck before he moved away. They cleaned themselves up and he gave her back her panties.

Damn, she looked good as she shimmied back into them.

“I meant what I said,” Dorian said, turning back to her with one hand on the door handle, “I won’t sleep with other girls if you don’t sleep with other dudes.”

“I meant what I said, too. Just because we’re only sleeping with one another doesn’t make you my boyfriend.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Dorian hauled the door open and they both went their separate ways.

At least until they reached the parking lot of their apartment complex, where they both happened to be getting out of their cars at the same time. He keyed in the building code and held the door open for her. They passed the security guard in the lobby and took the stairs to their third floor apartments. Then she went left and he went right.

Dorian looked over his shoulder and down the hallway to where Manon Blackbeak slipped into her apartment alone. He waited until he heard the slide of her locks and then entered his own apartment. He couldn’t figure out why he felt so possessive, so protective over her…

He stripped down and jumped into the shower. He hated to wash her off him, but his hair smelt like stale beer and bar smoke.

He wondered what Rowan hadn’t told him. Wondered why she’d moved apartments in the middle of the night. Wondered why she chose to move into this apartment complex. It was one of the most expensive in the area and had very few of the university’s students living in it. It mostly housed young professionals who commuted into the city each day.

It was also the safest.

Dorian Havilliard climbed into bed and decided that he would just have to find out who Manon Blackbeak really was. He decided that started by earning her trust.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

By the third knock, Dorian was 95% sure she wasn’t going to answer the door. But he knocked anyway. He heard the locks slide and then Manon Blackbeak hauled her apartment door open, looking about ready to murder him.

“Dorian Havilliard, it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday. Why the hell are you banging on my door?”

“I brought breakfast,” he said, smiling and holding up a grocery bag full of food. She frowned.

“I’m sleeping.”

“You look pretty awake to me.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “You also look pretty hungry. And wouldn’t it be nice if the handsome fellow you’re exclusively sleeping with offered to make you breakfast?”

“You’re not my boyfriend and you’re not a  _ fellow _ ,” she said, stepping out of the doorway. He strolled past her.

“Semantics.” He made himself at home in her kitchen and got to work. He was making omelets with toast and a side of fresh fruit. Manon ran to her bedroom to put on some pants then slumped into a bar stool across the counter from him.

“Why are you awake this early?” she said.

“I have to work.”

“You have a job?” He turned to look at her.

“Of course I have a job, don’t you?” he said.

“Yes, but aren’t you filthy rich? I mean you _ can _ afford to live here,” she motioned to the apartment building.

“So can you,” he said, handing her a cup of fresh coffee. “And you still have a job.” She buried her face in the mug.

“I can’t afford to live here. I’m not rich. I have several jobs just so I can make rent,” she said. He cracked a few eggs and spread them into the now hot frying pan.

“Why not just live someplace cheaper?” he said. He didn’t miss the wary look that flashed across her face. She covered it up well with a shrug.

“I like it here.”

“What about this place do you like?” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. What he really wanted to ask was why she moved around so much. He thought maybe she was in debt, but if that were true, then there was no way she’d be allowed to live in this building. At least not without a cosigner. She shrugged again. 

“It’s fancy,” she said.

“Ah, so you’re a woman who likes fancy things?”

“Not really.”

_ Not really, indeed, _ he thought. Her apartment was nice, but it lacked any personal touches. There was a couch and a rug and a TV, but that was really it. No pictures on the walls, no posters, no funny refrigerator magnets. No books.

“I can tell,” he said. She stared at him a moment.

“What do you really want to know, Dorian?” Now it was his turn to shrug.

“I just want to get to know you better. What you like, what you dislike. Friend stuff.”

“Are we friends?” 

He gave her a bedroom smile. “With benefits.” He winked, and she snorted into her coffee.

Dorian didn’t press her for any more information. Clearly, she was a private person and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. So they spent the rest of the morning eating and talking about classes and TV shows. A half hour till ten, Dorian got up and left. He didn’t want to be late for work.

They said goodbye and Dorian told her he’d probably see her that weekend at the bar she worked at. Then he left.

 

***

 

At six o’clock the next night, Manon went into work.

It was Sunday, and she was bartending at her cousin’s bar: The Blackbeak. A vintage arcade bar that aired the latest episode of The Walking Dead every Sunday night on the projector. It was a popular event in the college town.

She was on shift with Elide and Lorcan. Lorcan was carding at the door, Elide was working the bar with her. Everything was going fine until about half past eight o’clock when Cairn walked in.

Cairn was a rough guy. He’d grown up in the same shitty neighborhood as Manon, but unlike her, he’d never made it out. He’d flunked out of high school and started working on cars. He was a decent mechanic, but he ran with a rough crowd. He’d been in and out of trouble for years. But as much as she hated to admit it, he was kind of her friend. They’d dated in high school, and although he was as sleazy as they come, he wasn’t back then. She supposed he had been her first love.

“Hello ladies,” Cairn said, taking a seat at the bar. Elide frowned at Manon as of to say: “Are you going to get rid of him, or should I?”

“I’ll take him,” Manon whispered, switching sides of the bar with Eldie. “Hey, Cairn. You want the usual?” She reached for a bottle of cheap whiskey.

“You always did know me better than anyone else,” he said, eyeing her up and down. She thought she might throw up. She never wore super revealing clothing, but she did try to look sexier when she worked the bar. It helped bring in tips. She had on a tight pair of high waisted skinny jeans, and a black cropped top that showed off a few inches of her midriff. And, of course, she was wearing a pushup bra.

She poured him a double and set it on the bar in front of him. He smelled like booze and cheap cigarettes.

“Keep it open?” she said, taking his card.  _ Please say no, _ she thought.

“Yes.” And by the way he’d said yes, Manon knew he was already drunk.

_ Great. Fuckin’ great, _ she thought.

She hated when he came up here to get drunk—or more drunk in this case. He usually got obstinate, he always leered at the female customers, and Manon always felt as if it were somehow her responsibility to make sure he got into a cab. She knew she didn’t owe him anything. They hadn’t been  _ friend _ friends in years, but still. He’d been the only one who’d come to help her that night. The only one who’d cared that she’d needed help and—

She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about why she felt as if she owed him.

Lucky for her, the bar began to fill with locals and students coming to watch The Walking Dead, and she got too busy to talk with Cairn.

Manon filled a glass with soda and whiskey, not bothering to look up at the next person as she asked him for his order.

“I don’t know, what’s good?” purred a familiar voice. Manon handed the mixed drink to a customer across the bar, then looked over at Dorian. He was smiling in that charming way he always smiled, and she felt her face heat—that smile was now reserved for her.

But he wasn’t her boyfriend. Manon didn’t need a boyfriend, she could take care of herself and had been for quite a while.

She caught herself as soon as she remembered where she was.  _ You’re at work, you idiot,  _ she told herself.  _ He’s not your boyfriend, and all your friends are standing right behind him. _

Right. And Cairn was there, too. Only a few seats down.

She schooled her features, and rolled her eyes.

“What do you want, Dorian?” she said, taking his credit card. Aelin shoved past him.

“Since Dorian is buying,” Aelin said, “I’ll have a Shock Top, Rowan will have whatever your darkest beer on tap is, and Chaol and Dorian will have the same. Oh, and Nehemia will take the usual.”

Manon glanced at Dorian, he rolled his eyes and motioned that it was okay to put the drinks on his tab.

“Top shelf?” Manon asked Nehemia as she reached for the nicest bottle of tequila the bar stocked.

Nehemia smiled and said, “That’s me. And in a wine glass if you got one, babe.” Manon chuckled, Nehemia had always been too classy for their friend group. Sometimes she had no idea how they’d managed to convince her they were worthy of her time.

About fifteen minutes after Manon served her friends, the show started. A few people played arcade games, but almost everyone sat at the tables or the bar, quietly watching the projector screen. Elide and Manon took the opportunity to relax and clean up a bit. Manon’s phone buzzed from where it sat on the counter behind the bar. She unlocked the screen and checked the message.

 

 **D:** _Far end of the bar._

 

As casually as she could, Manon glanced over to the unoccupied end of the bar where there weren’t any seats. Dorian leaned in on his elbows. He was wearing a simple white v-neck underneath an expensive looking black jacket. His blue black hair was an utter mess around his face—just the way she liked it.

She tried not to look too eager as she padded over to him, leaning her elbows onto the bar top to push up her cleavage even more.

“Hello, princeling,” she said in a voice that was not to be overheard. He kept his eyes on hers.

“Hello, witchling,” he said.

“Witchling?” 

Dorian took a sip of his beer, and she saw the moment his eyes fell on her cleavage. She tried not to smirk. Tried not to let her want for him show on her face.

“See I’m convinced,” he said, slowly dragging his eyes back up to hers. “That you’ve put a spell on me.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“And why is that?” 

He gave her a low chuckle. “I think you know why.” Her body heated, remembering how he’d taken her against the wall only a few nights before. Dorian swallowed thickly, as if thinking the same thing.

“When—”

“Not here,” she said, motioning to the crowded room with a tilt of her head. He pulled out his phone, he understood. A second later, Manon’s phone buzzed behind her.

“You should check that,” Dorian said. Manon backed away from him and checked her phone.

 

 **D:** _When do u get off?_

 

**M:** _ Depends. Either 2 a.m. or whenever u have a few minutes to lend me a helping hand... _

 

Dorian chuckled from across the bar. 

 

 **D:** _Get ur mind out of the gutter. And 2 am? It’s a school night :(_

 

**M:** _ U’re the one staring at my tits. And bars close at 2 around here. I don’t make the rules. _

 

Manon walked back over to where Dorian was leaning on the bar. “I suppose it’s convenient that we live in the same building then,” he said.

Manon lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?” She idly wiped down the bar top in front of him. “Why is that?”

“So I can lend a hand to help you”—he leaned in a whispered—“ _ get off _ .” Her body flooded with heat, and she knew he could tell. He gave her a bedroom smile.

Manon leaned forward, pushing her breasts together, about to tell him exactly what she wanted him to help her with—

“Blackbeak,” Cairn yelled. “Put your stripper tits away and get me another drink. This ain’t your day job.” He’d said it loud enough for nearly everyone in the quiet bar to hear. A few customers shushed him, and several turned to see who Cairn had spoken to. 

Manon froze as blood boiled in her veins. She took a deep breath, didn’t dare look at Dorian, and pushed off the bar to prowl to Carin. She grabbed his empty glass as Elide motioned to halt Lorcan who’d already started walking over.

“One more outburst, Cairn, and you’re out. You know the rules.” She’d said it as low and vicious as she could, not wanting to make a scene.

He chuckled and said, “More whiskey.”

Manon turned her back to pour him another drink and dared a glance at Dorian. His eyes were alert, assessing as if he’d already sized up Cairn and knew exactly where he’d strike to put him down if Manon gave him the word. Wide eyed, she shook her head once.

“Hu-hu-ho,” Carin said. “Now I get it.” He propped his elbows on the counter and pointed a finger between Manon and Dorian. “You two’re fuckin’.”

She didn’t dare look at Dorian. Not when that’s what Cairn wanted, not when Aelin and all of her friends were around.

She snorted—as if to blow off his assumption—and set Cairn’s whiskey in front of him. She’d let him have this one, then she’d call him a cab.

“Cairn,” Manon said in a voice that let in some of that inner city accent she tried so hard to hide. “You and I both know I don’t date.”

He sipped his drink. “That’s right. Miss hot-shot-smartypants to good to date any of us, but not good enough for any of them.”

Manon swallowed hard. She knew that  _ us  _ refered to her old neighborhood, and  _ them _ referred to her new university friends. Where she came from wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something she advertised either.

“Don’t forget,” he continued, “I still remember what that sweet ass tastes like, babydoll. When these rich bastards realize you ain’t good enough for them, good ol’ Cairn will take you back. I still remember how you like—” 

“ _ Cairn, _ ” she snarled.

She was going to kick his ass out right then, but he said, “The old man has been asking about you,” and everything stopped.

She blinked. And blinked again as his words hit her ears, her brain. They registered and then her brain rebooted.

“Anniversary’s coming up,” he slurred, eyes dipping to where her hand had automatically come up to press against her stomach. She felt hot. Too hot. Didn’t want to think about the screams that echoed in her head—

“Leave her alone.”

Manon snapped out of her thoughts and realized Dorian had just spoken—and was now standing next to Cairn.  _ Shit. _

Cairn laughed, sizing Dorian up. “Looky here. Pretty Boy’s got some balls,” he said. Cairn stood, and Manon realized that unless Dorian had some unique fighting skills, he was about to get his ass kicked. Cairn had at least three inches and about fifty pounds of muscle on him.

But Lorcan was already speeding over. Manon removed Cairn’s glass from the bar. Just in case. She was faintly aware that Elide’s hand was on her back.

“Dorian,” Manon growled. “Don’t you dare touch him, or I’ll have you both thrown out.” She ignored the look on Dorian’s face. He wasn’t her boyfriend, and she didn’t need him to fight her battles. “Cairn, I’m calling you a cab.” She did.

Elide closed out Cairn’s tab and handed Manon his card just as Lorcan put a hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him. He was drunker than Manon had originally thought.

“Aelin,” Cairn slurred as Lorcan steered them to the door.

“Cairn,” was all Aelin said.

Manon came around the bar, and followed Cairn and Lorcan outside. They sat Cairn on a bench by the curb and Manon tucked his credit card inside his wallet, then handed him a bottle of water.

“You were always too good for us,” he slurred.

Manon didn’t have an answer for that. So she just stood there until the cab came. When it did, she paid the driver and made sure he had the correct address, then they were gone.

For a moment, she stood on the curb with Lorcan. She rubbed the back of her neck. She wasn’t sure of the amount of damage control she’d have to do with her friends, but the thought of it stressed her out. She was anxious, jittery.

“Want me to call Asterin?” Lorcan said. It was, after all, Asterin’s bar, but Manon was pretty sure that’s not what he meant—he’d heard. Lorcan had worked for Asterin for years. He and his wife, Elide, knew more about Manon than she cared to admit. It had been Lorcan who had introduced Asterin to Fenrys—her boyfriend, well fiance now, she supposed.

Manon sighed. “No. I’ll tell her. Tomorrow. Maybe.” 

“We’ll I’m telling her the next time I see her, so figure it out.”

Manon sighed again, and they walked back inside.

She put a pleasant look on her face as she went back behind the bar, Aelin was already running interference. Explaining in a roundabout way how she’d come to be introduced to Cairn. She told their friends she’d met him at The Blackbeak one evening—which, truthfully, wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t exactly the truth.

Aelin had met drunk-Cairn at The Blackbeak many times when he’d come up to have a drink. But the reason he remembered her name was because he’d met her when he’d been sober. It was only once, but the situation had been dire enough that he remembered her. It was the fall semester of Manon and Aelin’s freshman year of college—and that was about as much as Manon wanted to think about it.

What Manon did want to think about was Dorian Havilliard. He was sitting on a stool next to Aelin, and if she knew that face, he was brooding.

 

 **M:** _My mind is in the gutter again. Will you be awake?_

 

 **D:** _Depends_

 

 **M:** _On?_

 

 **D:** _What did Cairn mean when he said this isn’t ur day job?_

 

 **M:** _If u play ur cards right, princeling, I might show u._

 

Manon’s day job involved shifts at an exclusive membership-only gentleman’s club called The Thirteen. It was also owned by Asterin, and located about forty-five minutes away in the city. Manon wasn’t a stripper of course, she was a waitress, but Dorian didn’t need to know that. At least not right now. Because he wore a face that told her he wanted to ask questions, and because right now all Manon Blackbeak could think of was how anxious and on edge she felt, and how badly she needed to get lost in him.

 

***

 

Dorian was still brooding over the incident with Cairn when Manon knocked on his apartment door. It was 2:45 a.m., and she looked as though she’d just jumped out of the shower. Her hair was damp, and she wore a slender night-robe with what looked like black thigh-high stockings.

“May I come in?” Manon said. Dorian stepped aside. She wasted no time before she pounced—crushing her body against his, her mouth to his.

“Manon, wait—”

“Don’t,” she said, wrapping her hand around his dick. She stroked him through his thin pajama bottoms. He stiffened in her hand. 

“Ah—shit baby,” he said, closing his eyes. He was pretty sure she was going to fuck him in this doorway, and he was 100% sure he was going to let her. 

But after a second, his damn conscience overruled his dick, and he wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled her hand away. “Manon, I don’t care where you come from,” he said. 

If you could trip with your eyes and not just your feet, then the look Manon gave him was just that: a trip. A stumble.  _ Wrong move, dude _ . He had absolutely no idea why he’d felt the need to tell her that. She blinked, and for a second, Dorian thought she was going to leave. 

But then she said, “I don’t care what you think, and I didn’t come here to talk.” She pulled off the robe—revealing that she was indeed wearing black thigh-high stockings and one of those skin-tight lingerie thingys that fits like a high-waisted skirt but comes up to just under a woman’s tits.

Good. Fucking. God. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Her bare breasts just appeared before him and—

All the blood that should have been in his brain, rushed to his dick. He was so hard it hurt.

In one swift motion she pulled his pajama pants down, his dick sprang free, and she sucked it into her mouth. He braced himself on the wall.

He almost came right then and there at the sight of her. Manon on her knees in front of him, sucking his dick like her life depended on it—and maybe it did. Because the way she was staring up at him told Dorian that she hadn’t just come to him for sex. She’d come to escape something—she ran her teeth gently up the length of him—and holy fucking shit that was fine with him. She could use him to escape her problems. He was happy to do that actually.

He kept his eyes on her as she sucked and licked him like a popsicle melting from a mid-summer sun. She brought a hand up and squeezed his balls.  _ Fuck. _ He was pretty sure he was in love with this women. Pretty sure he’d do anything for her—

“Please, princeling,” she begged. Dorian stared at her. At that wary edge in her eyes and realized what she needed, the part he’d forgotten to play.

He pushed away thoughts of why she needed him and said, “Touch one of those big titties for me, Manon. Let me see you roll that pretty pink nipple in your fingers.”

She did. And almost immediately whatever edge that had been in her eyes began to dull. He pulled all of her shower-damp hair into a ponytail in his fist and gently controlled the motion of her head as she sucked him off.

He let her pleasure him for a few more strokes then he pulled her head back and away. He hauled her to her feet. He pushed her hard against the door and made a show of staring at her breasts. Her eyes devoured him, as his devoured her.

Then he grabbed those sweet, soft tits, hard. One in each hand—fuck they were soft. He pulled her off the wall slightly. Pain and pleasure mixed on her face as he felt her up, massaged her. Manon bit and sucked her lips. He brought her face close to his, but held her by the tits just far enough away that she couldn’t get to his mouth. She still tried. It was kinda cute. Her eye were half lidded, drunk off his touch.

She whined, “Please.” And Dorian knew that if he gave her his mouth, she’d likely bite the shit out of him. She did that sometimes, not on purpose or to hurt him, but because she became so lust addled. He liked her like this.

“Not yet,” he purred. And then he released her, bent, and threw her over his shoulder in one swift motion. He smacked her ass hard enough that she half moaned half yelped as he carried her off to his bedroom.

He threw her down on the king size mattress and grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs. Then he removed his pants. Manon’s throat bobbed as Dorian stood before her completely naked and stroked his dick for her viewing pleasure. Briefly, he wondered what she’d do if he masterbated to completion and came all over her. But he wasn’t a douchebag, he knew to at least ask a girl if that was okay before he did it.

He moved to the nightstand and grabbed a sleeve of condoms. Then he moved back to the end of the bed.

Her eyes watched him the whole time, darting between his dick to his face—clearly she was having trouble knowing where to focus. He released his dick with a bedroom smile and climbed up on the bed to kneel over her.

He pulled her knees up then ran his hands up her thighs, pushing the skirt up until her silky, black pantied were revealed.

“Jesus H. Christ, baby,” he said. “This pussy is drippin’ for me.” He ran a finger along the damp, darkened spot between her legs.

She fisted her hands in the sheets at her sides and said, “Oh fuck, Dorian. Please— _ please _ .” Her voice was breathy and beautiful, and her hips moved to push his finger where she wanted it. He sat back and folded his arms.

“Take your panties off.” Then added, “ _ Slowly _ , so I can watch.”

Biting her bottom lip, she lifted her hips to pull her panties off from the back. Her legs were delicately held straight up in the air as she made painfully slow work of pulling them off. He watched as the softest, pinkest parts of her came into view. She dangled her panties on the tip of her foot and ran them across Dorian’s face.

Damn if his dick didn’t twitch. He needed her now. 

He snatched the panties from her foot with his mouth and then balled them up in a hand. He jerked his chin to the condoms. “Roll one on me.” 

Manon practically jumped off the bed to grab a condom. She ripped through one wrapper and—

“Pussy where I can see it,” Dorian said. Heat like lava flooded those golden eyes as Manon adjusted her position so that her legs were spread wide. Then she leaned forward and rolled a condom on him. Her mouth was slightly open, lips loose, breath heavy with anticipation. 

He briefly wondered what she would do if he stuffed her panties into her mouth. 

He chucked them to the floor, and instead hauled her up to claim that mouth. She bit him—hard and passionately, and he loved every second of it. He dipped a hand between her legs and circled a few fingers around the wettest part of her, teasing.

She forgot how to kiss him as her eyes shut and her mouth fell open with a moan.

“What do you want, Manon?”

“You,” she breathed. “Inside me.”

He thrust a finger on his other hand in her mouth and said, “Where exactly?”

She sucked that finger all the way to the last knuckle and whimpered what sounded like: “My pussy.” Dorian smiled, removed his fingers from her mouth, and gave her a brutal kiss as he finally gave her what she wanted. He thrust two fingers inside her. 

She was so wet, he heard it. Every slip and slide and where their bodies met. She was ready, and he wasn’t going to waste anymore time. He pulled away from her and said, “Elbows and knees.”

He almost laughed she moved so fast. But he didn’t because her ass was suddenly all he could see, her pussy was dripping for him, and as much as he wanted to bend forward and lick it clean—he slid his dick inside her instead.

They both groaned with the pressure. The exquisite, tight, oh-so-fucking-warm pressure. He might have cursed, he wasn’t sure. He sank himself to hilt, bracing his hands on her hips. Manon turned her head and Dorian saw that she watched him in the mirrored doors of his closet.

She’d told him once that she liked the sight of man’s hips when he thrust. That she liked the sight of man’s hips as he thrust into  _ her _ .

He pulled back slightly and used his hands to push her hips away at the same time. Then, when he thrust back in, he simultaneously pulled her hips to him, pushing and pulling her body back and forth over his dick.

She moaned into the mattress.

Dorian leaned forward and gathered her hair up in his fist. He pulled her head back and made her look at him as he thrust into her—slow and deep.

“You like that, witchling?” he said as he gently pressed to hilt. She whimpered and nodded. He kneaded the flesh of her left ass cheek with his free hand. God she had a great ass—

And all at once what Cairn had said came back to him. It wasn’t that she’d slept with a jackass like Cairn that bothered him. He’d slept with plenty of women some of whom were jackasses, too. What bothered him was what Cairn had said about her. That he remembered what she liked as if he were going to use it against her, or tell a bar full of people.

And then he remembered that she’d told him to back off, which she’d had every right to do. But—Cairn had been acting like a grade-A douchebag, and Dorian would have stood up for any of his friends like that.

“Manon,” he said, watching her in the mirror. He let go of her hair and grabbed her arms, pulling them back like the reigns on a horse. Her torso lifted into the air and her breast bounced wildly with each thrust. He pulled out, “I didn’t like the way that Cairn guy spoke to you.” He thrust in hard and deep enough that they both groaned. 

He began to pull out. 

They stared at one another in the mirror. 

“I didn’t like what he said”—a hard thrust back in, he pulled back—”I didn’t like the way he looked at you”—a hard thrust again—“and I wanted to kick his ass for ever thinking that he could have you.”

Sure it was a shitty way to broach a conversation she didn’t want to have, but he thought himself pretty fucking clever for framing it in a way that would only turn her on more. She liked to be dominated, and the muscles of her pussy were suddenly so tight around his dick as he fucked her from behind, her pussy so wet—he decided to push further.

He increased his pace and hauled her up onto her knees. He thrust up into her as he pressed her to his chest, molding her breasts in his hands. And fuck if her pussy didn’t clamp down on him, unwilling to let him go.

Jesus, she was close. They both knew it.

Dorian pushed her slightly forward to brace her hands on the headboard. He kissed and bit her shoulders and back as he slid his hands up and down her chest and torso—as best he could over the skirt thingy that was still bunched up over her stomach. Her breasts bounced in his hands, with each thrust.

He pinched the nipple of one, and slowly reached his other hand between her legs to her clit. She nearly screamed at the touch.

“Please,” she begged. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come. Please—please.”

He pinched her clit. “This pussy is mine, Manon.” She nodded her head vigorously, looking down to where his hand was between her legs poised to make her come. “You’re too good for Cairn.” Again she nodded still staring at his hand between her legs. “Say it,” Dorian said.

“Yes,” she gasped. Dorian started to move his fingers in slow tiny circles.

“Yes, what?”

“I’m too good for him.”

“You’re mine,” was the last thing Dorian said before he began to fuck her to completion. He circled his fingers around her clit just the way she liked, and she moaned and groaned a combination of the words “I’m”, “yours” and “Dorian” while she came.

Dorian came to the sound of her. To the feel of her inner muscles clamping and throbbing around his dick as he moved inside her.

When it was over, they collapsed on the bed. Dorian tightened his arms around her, and while she recovered, she didn’t seem to notice or mind. Bit once they were both fully aware, she pushed him away.

After she left, Dorian grabbed his phone.

 

 **D:** _4 what it’s worth, u r good enough._

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone who has been reading this and messaging me about finishing it!

I have an exciting update on this story coming soon, so hold tight! It could be mid summer or early fall before I post about this again (and explain what's happening!), but I will keep you all posted. I promise! Feel free to find me on tumblr (@propshophannah) to keep in touch.

Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm propshophannah on tumblr


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